


No Promises

by cybel



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17927066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybel/pseuds/cybel
Summary: While on a mission alone together, Avon and Vila find more than they had gone looking for.





	No Promises

**Author's Note:**

> The original version of this story was printed in the B7 fanzine _Resistance 4_ (1990), published by Mkashef Enterprises and edited by Wendy Rathbone. The zine's Fanlore page can be found [here](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Resistance_\(Blake%27s_7_zine\)). Please note that this Fanlore page contains NSFW images.

"I've got to rest," Vila whined, not for the first time, as he clumsily followed Avon up the steep slope of another rocky hill. "I can't go on." He coughed pathetically as the dust of Avon's ascent billowed around him. "Why are we climbing this bloody mountain again? Why couldn't we just teleport directly to the station?"

Avon paused momentarily, looking back at Vila with disdain. "I already told you. The scientists' transmission was garbled. We had to extrapolate the coordinates as best we could from the data we were able to salvage. Look, if you can't go on, then stay here. I don't give a damn either way." He turned and resumed his climb.

"No, you wouldn't," Vila muttered under his breath. "Hey!" he called as he noticed how far ahead Avon was getting. "Wait for me!" Vila didn't dare try to teleport up before they had achieved their goal. If he did, the others would flail him alive even if Avon didn't. Nor did he want to be left behind. Avon might be a dangerous man to be around, but on a mission such as this it would be even more dangerous for Vila to be on his own.

Avon finally reached the crest of the hill and stood looking down the other side. Vila clambered up beside him and fell to his knees, panting. "There," Avon said, pointing toward a poorly camouflaged structure lying in a shallow depression across the valley below them. "That must be it. The research project's computer records must be stored in there."

Avon started forward again, but before Vila could protest that he couldn't possibly take another step, all hell broke loose as several bow and arrow wielding primitives jumped out from cover part way down the slope, leveling their weapons at them. Vila yelped and threw himself flat on the ground, fumbling with his teleportation bracelet. In the moments that followed, time seemed to stretch out then slow almost to a full stop. Vila, looking up from his bracelet, saw that Avon had not moved since their ambushers had appeared, had not even reached for his gun. "Avon, get down!"

Avon glanced calmly back at him, a small, grim smile twitching at the corners of his lips, then deliberately turned back toward certain death. Vila's mouth dropped open in stunned surprise, then, with uncharacteristic presence of mind, he opened a channel to the ship and shouted, "Teleport now! _NOW!_ " At the same time, he jumped to his feet and leaped toward Avon, intent on knocking him out of the way of the arrows that had already begun to whiz past them.

That's when time, finally stretched too thin, began to race forward again, causing events to rush by almost too rapidly to perceive. Vila reached for Avon, but before he could grab him Avon shuddered and fell backward against him, sending them both sprawling. Avon landed on top of him, but Vila quickly rolled out from under his weight. One frantic glance revealed the brightly colored fletching of an arrow protruding from Avon's chest, and the next glance revealed the bright gouts of blood oozing from the wound. Vila opened his mouth to scream just as reality winked out. When it winked back in, they were back on the _Liberator_ with Dayna rushing toward them.

Avon was unconscious, blood now covering the entire right side of his chest and dripping steadily onto the teleportation platform. Vila leaned over him and pressed his hands uselessly against the wound, trying to push its edges together and staunch the bleeding. "Help him!" he cried frantically. "Help him!"

Dayna took one look and yelled for Cally to call Tarrant to bring a gurney, then she grabbed an emergency med pack and ran to Avon's side. "Let go, Vila," she said as she tried to assess the severity of Avon's injury. When Vila didn't respond, she seized his wrists and pulled them free, inadvertently shoving him back against the bulkhead in her haste. Pale and trembling, Vila stayed where he landed.

Grasping the arrow in both hands, Dayna pulled it loose with a dull sucking sound that made Vila want to vomit. She hurriedly affixed a sealing pad to the site, holding it tightly in place as it began to adhere to the wound.

Vila whimpered and closed his eyes to block out the horrible sight. When he opened them again, he was alone. He shakily raised his hands to wipe his dust begrimed face, but as they came into view he saw they were stained bright red. _Gloves of blood_ , he thought, giggling inanely. _I'm wearing gloves of Avon's blood_. With that thought still echoing around in his numbed brain, Vila fainted.

 

"Vila! Vila, wake up!"

Vila groaned and opened his eyes but immediately closed them again. "Ow," he moaned. "My head."

"It's all right," Cally reassured him gently. "You must have bumped it on the deck when you fainted."

"Fainted? I never did," Vila protested automatically, but then he forgot his wounded pride as he remembered what had happened. "Avon?" he asked, gulping down the lump of fear that obstructed his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

Cally's smooth brow furrowed. "He's alive, but…"

"But?" Vila whispered through dry lips.

"But he's lost a lot of blood, and we have none to replace it with."

"Mine!" Vila leaned forward eagerly. "He can have some of mine." Shocked by his own offer, he added, "A little, anyway. I wouldn't miss just a little, would I?"

Cally looked at him sharply then shook her head. "No, Vila, that wouldn't work. We already thought about that. He has O-negative blood, and none of the rest of us is compatible. Besides, that's not the only problem."

"Then _what?_ " Vila wailed.

"He came to for just a moment before we got him into the resuscitation capsule. When Dayna tried to reassure him that everything would be all right, he told her in no uncertain terms to piss off and let him die in peace. It took both Tarrant and me to hold him down so Dayna could inject a sedative."

"But that's crazy." Vila shifted his weight uneasily. "He can't have meant it, Cally."

"Maybe," Cally answered, "but he certainly acted as though he did. If looks could kill, we'd all have been dead before he lost consciousness again." She paused, looking thoughtful, then asked, "Vila, what happened down on the planet?"

"Nothing." Vila squirmed under her intense scrutiny, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to tell her that Avon had deliberately walked into that arrow. "Nothing happened," he repeated defensively when he saw the dubious look in her eyes. "We were ambushed, that's all."

"All right, Vila," she said placatingly as she patted his forearm. "I believe you. Here, let me help you up."

"Oh. Yeah," Vila said, embarrassed to realize he was still sitting on the teleportation platform. He got up with her help, swaying slightly. "Have the stabilizers gone out then?" he asked.

"That's your head," Cally said, grasping his arm to help steady him. "I told you, you must have hit it when you fell. Come on, I'll help you to your quarters."

"No. I want to go to the medical unit."

"It's only a bump on the head Vila—Oh," she said as she saw the worried, determined look in his eyes, "sorry. To the medical unit, then."

After the first wave of dizziness passed, Vila's headache retreated to a dull pounding behind his eyes, and he was able to maneuver under his own power. Dayna looked up from her patient as they entered, and Vila tensed at the anxiety marring her features.

"How is he, Dayna?" he asked in a small voice, not at all sure he wanted to know.

"On life support," she answered. "But stable for now," she added quickly as Vila paled even more. "We've filled him full of plasma expanders since we don't have any blood for transfusion. Come here. You'd better sit down and let me tend to you."

"Yes, all right," he said distractedly, his eyes straying to where Avon lay motionless, surrounded by medical equipment. "He'll be all right, you know," he said with false assurance, as if he was trying to convince himself. "He's too stubborn to die. Don't you think so? He'll get well just to spite us all." His voice dropped to a soft, pleading whisper, "He will get well, won't he?"

Dayna, who had turned away from him to get a healing pad for his head, turned back toward Vila and said calmly, "Yes, Vila, I'm sure he will. Now lie down and get some rest." She pushed him down onto a medical cot and rubbed the pad gently over the bump on his head until the swelling and discoloration were gone. By the time she had finished, he had fallen into a deep, though troubled, sleep.

 

When Vila woke up, he and Avon were alone. One look showed him that the monitors and alarms affixed to the life support equipment were on and functioning, and he knew that, being a part of _Zen_ , they would inform anyone on the flight deck the moment a change occurred in Avon's condition. _Too bad our bodies don't have the same auto-repair capabilities the ship has_ , Vila thought. _If we did, he'd be well by now._ He sighed and sat up. At least the pain in his head was gone. He got up and walked hesitantly over to Avon.

"You bastard," Vila said without heat as he gazed at Avon's still features. "You could have gotten me killed down there, not that you'd care. Did you really think I'd just lie still and let you walk into those arrows? Well, maybe you did. I've never much given you reason to think I'd risk my own skin for someone else, have I? Not even for you. Especially not for you." His focus turned momentarily inward, and he frowned. "Come to that, I don't know why I did it myself. It wasn't like me at all. Bloody stupid thing to do."

His attention returned to the unconscious man. Strange how peaceful Avon looked in repose. He never looked like that awake. Awake he was at best a banked fire, cool and controlled on the surface, but a raging inferno underneath.

Avon terrified Vila, always had. But he also fascinated him—fascinated and attracted him the way a flame fascinates and attracts a moth. Avon was everything Vila secretly admired: dangerous, respected, and brave. Most of all, brave. Hadn't Avon deliberately allowed himself to be captured and tortured just so he could finally get his revenge on that slime, Shrinker? Hadn't he deliberately walked into those arrows today?

Vila's frown deepened. No, that was wrong. Walking into that ambush hadn't been bravery, it had been suicide. Avon might have been many things, but he had never been suicidal. In fact, his almost obsessive self-interest was one of his most reliable, and, to Vila's way of thinking, most admirable attributes. Until recently. Until Avon had gone to Earth to avenge Anna and instead had killed her. No, then. Not brave. Not today. But certainly fearless. Yes, that, was it. Avon had become fearless, as a man is fearless when he has nothing left to lose. When he has given up. When he begins to actively seek death.

Vila backed away a step from the silent figure in front of him. Wanting to die was a concept completely beyond his ability to imagine, more alien to him than any alien life-form they had come across is their travels. Staying alive was Vila's own most most basic credo, his single most imperative driving force.

Yes, there were other things Vila deemed important as well, like good food and strong drink and, at least every now and then, a warm, willing body to cuddle up to. And locked rooms and vaults and boxes to open—in some ways, those were the most important things of all. Those were the things that defined who he was, not just what he did. But living came first. None of the other things existed for a dead man. How could Avon, arrogant, self-centered Avon of all people, actively want to throw his own life away?

A low moan alerted Vila that Avon was regaining consciousness, and, without stopping to think about it, he reached out and disabled the alarm that would notify the others.

As Avon awakened, the unnatural peacefulness that had possessed his sculptured features dissolved into a tortured mask of confusion and distress. He tried to sit up but was restrained by his own weakness as much as by the medical equipment attached to his body.

Worried that Avon would hurt himself further in his disoriented thrashing about, Vila jumped forward and, pulling back the dome of the resuscitation capsule, pushed the injured man down.

"Anna?" Avon asked muzzily.

Vila let go of the other man's shoulders as if he'd been burned. "No, Avon," he said reprovingly. "It's Vila."

"Vila?" Avon's eyes slowly focused on him, though they remained clouded with drugs and a pain that had very little to do with his current injury. "Ah, yes," he said at last, as if he had finally sorted out some profound mystery that had been preying on his mind. "I remember. Anna is dead. I… killed... her."

"Well," Vila said unthinkingly into the uncomfortable silence that followed, "it's good to see you've finally returned to the world of the living." Then he winced as he realized just how callous that must have sounded in light of Avon's last words.

A faint echo of Avon's old feral gleam shone in his clouded eyes. "'The world of the living,'" he repeated ironically. "And I suppose you're the one I have to thank for the fact that I'm still alive."

"Yes," Vila answered defiantly, "I guess I am." He braced himself for the verbal attack he felt was to come.

Instead, Avon's lips quirked upward ever so slightly. "So. It seems I owe you my life. Too bad…" his voice began to fade as he once more slipped toward unconsciousness, "it isn't… worth… anything." His eyes closed, and he drifted off to sleep.

"It is to me, Avon," Vila whispered, surprised at just how true his words were. "It is to me."

Vila opened a com link to let Dayna know Avon was doing better, and she arrived just as he finished scrubbing the blood off his hands. After checking on Avon, she said, "Your tunic's stained, too, Vila. Why don't you go to your cabin for a shower and a change of clothes? In fact, you should go to bed. You look all in."

"I don't know," Vila said doubtfully, throwing an anxious glance toward Avon.

"Look," Dayna told him firmly, "it's not going to make any difference in the long run whether you're here or not, so you might as well go."

Vila looked almost comically dejected, but he said, "I suppose you're right. I'll be off, then. But would you…?"

"Yes, Vila," she answered his unasked question, "I'll let you know if his condition changes."

 

Several hours later Cally entered the medical unit to relieve Dayna. All of Avon's life signs had strengthened gradually, and Dayna had felt it would be best, in light of his earlier strange behavior, if someone was present the next time he awakened.

"How is he?" Cally asked.

"Better," Dayna answered. _Liberator's_ technology is really amazing, you know. We take it too much for granted. Without it, I think he would have been dead hours ago."

"That's comforting to know. That," Cally motioned toward Avon, "could have been any of us. Might be, at any time. We've been lucky up to now." She paused. "Dayna," she asked at last, "Vila's taking all this rather hard, don't you think? I mean, I've never seen him act so concerned about someone else. And Avon, of all people. They don't even like each other."

"I'm not so sure about that," Dayna answered thoughtfully.

"But the way they talk to each other! Sometimes the barbs are so sharp I'm surprised neither one of them comes away bleeding."

"Yes, but have you ever seen them get really angry at each other, really hurt each other? I don't think all the insults and bickering between them mean anything. In fact, I think they enjoy it. It's the only way they know how to interact without making themselves vulnerable to each other."

"You mean…?" Cally asked in amazement.

Dayna shrugged. "Would that be so odd? They've been through a lot together. They have a lot in common."

" _Avon_ and _Vila_?"

"Yes," Dayna said patiently. "Avon and Vila. Although," she added, "I imagine they'd both be as shocked at the idea as you are."

"If you say so," Cally said doubtfully. "But," she added, "I still think you're wrong."

"Perhaps." Dayna smiled. "But I don't think so.

 

"What do you mean we have to go back down there?" Vila exploded, his distress bouncing off the walls of the flight deck.

"I mean," Tarrant repeated, "that you have to go back down there."

"But…" Words failed Vila, so he started again, "But—"

"But nothing. Avon agrees with me."

"Avon's still flat on his back with a bloody great hole in his chest!" Vila shouted.

"No," a strained voice said from behind him. "As a matter of fact, I'm not."

Vila whirled toward the sound, his face undergoing a rapid-fire change of expressions that ran the gamut of emotions from joy to anger to fear before finally settling on pouting resolve. "I'm still not going," he said finally. To strengthen his point, he crossed his arms in front of him and plopped down onto the flight deck couch in a deep sulk.

"Yes you are," Avon said quietly. Vila suppressed a cringe. A quiet Avon was far more dangerous than a yelling one.

"Oh, you'll go, all right," Tarrant added with a deceptively mild smile. "Or I'll throw you out the airlock. Without a suit."

This time Vila did cringe. He knew Tarrant meant it.

"Leave him alone, Tarrant," Avon said tiredly. "He'll go. We'll both go."

Vila gaped at Avon. "What do you mean, 'We'll both go?'" he asked. "You can barely stand up!" Vila sighed in resignation. "All right," he capitulated grudgingly, "l'll go. But not with you, Avon. I'll go with Dayna. Or Cally."

Avon shook his head. "I'm the only one who can break the computer codes and access the databanks."

Vila jumped up off the couch and looked from Avon to Tarrant and back again. "Then we'll just blow it all up. That will stop the Federation from getting hold of the information."

"It will also keep us from getting hold of it," Avon replied. "And if the information Zen intercepted is correct, if the scientists down there really did develop teleportation before they died, maybe they found out something that will improve the efficiency of our own system."

"And maybe they didn't!" Vila took a deep breath. "Either way, since it's shielded, I'm the only one who can get into the building, and I'm not going down with you again, Avon. No matter what."

Tarrant took a threatening step toward him, but, although he flinched, Vila did not retreat.

"Wait," Avon said to Tarrant. His eyes burned into Vila, whose own gaze dropped immediately. After a pause, Avon said, "Take Dayna with you, then. She'll know where to set the charges to make sure nothing is left for the Federation." He sank down onto the couch as if exhausted, ignoring Tarrant's indignant protests.

Vila stood stock still then, when he realized he had won, grinned cockily at Tarrant and said, "Well, I'll go tell Dayna, why don't I?" He left the flight deck with a definite spring in his step.

 

Now that they knew the exact location of the abandoned station, Vila and Dayna were able to teleport directly to it. While Dayna kept a close watch for the primitives, Vila worked at breaching the station's defenses, and soon the heavy door slid open. "Piece of cake," Vila said without false modesty. "Come on, lets get inside where it's safe."

Dayna looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Vila." She brought her bracelet quickly to her lips and said, "It's open," and the next thing Vila knew Dayna was gone, and Avon stood in her place.

"That's not fair!" Vila protested, his voice shaking with helpless anger and frustration.

Avon smiled at him coldly. "Life isn't fair, or hadn't you heard?" He stepped past Vila into the cool dimness of the station.

When Vila didn't follow, Avon asked, "Are you coming? It doesn't matter to me whether you do or not. Your job is finished, after all." He gestured toward the open doorway between them.

"You really are a bastard," Vila muttered, crossing the threshold and sealing the door behind him.

"Yes," Avon said mildly. "So I've been told."

The research station was a small one, so it didn't take long to find the computer center. Once there, Avon seated himself at the console and began to work while Vila went to sulk in a corner, idly hoping that the ghosts of its previous residents had long since departed. With his luck, they might still be lingering about the premises just to vex him.

After a while, a sharp intake of breath from his companion caught Vila's attention. "You okay?" he asked, his anger forgotten.

Avon let out a quick bark of laughter. "Only if it's okay for my right arm to be numb," he said grimly. "I can't seem to move it all of a sudden."

"Let's go back to the ship, Avon," Vila begged. "I knew you shouldn't have come down. I knew it." He fussed around Avon powerlessly, oblivious to the clouds gathering on his drawn face.

"Be still, Vila, or get out of here. I'm not leaving until I get what I came for."

"But your arm—"

"Is an inconvenience. This will take me twice as long one-handed."

"But—" Avon gave him a look of such scathing heat that Vila instantly subsided.

"Good," Avon said. "Now be quiet while I finish."

Avon's progress at the computer slowed painfully, every movement measured and deliberate. Soon his one good hand began to tremble, and perspiration beaded his brow.

Finally Vila'd had enough. Heedless of the consequences, he reached out and restrained Avon's hand. "Don't be a fool," he said. "You're all in. If you don't get some rest, you're going to keel over."

For a moment the arm he grasped tensed, and Vila thought Avon was going to jerk it away, but then he relaxed and nodded. "Perhaps you're right," he said wearily. "I've had to repeat my last set of instructions several times. I can't seem to get it right."

Avon's exhausted acquiescence worried Vila, but he just said, "Here, let me help you onto the couch. All you need is a bit of rest and you can finish up so we can get out of here." He glanced around furtively. "I don't like this place. It doesn't feel right."

"The ghosts of its previous tenants may be lingering about?" Avon suggested.

Vila froze, Avon's words too closely mimicking his own earlier musings. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts," he said nervously.

"I don't. It was a joke, Vila. Dead is dead."

"Yes. A joke. Dead is dead," Vila repeated, shivering in spite of himself. "Come on." He helped Avon up and guided him toward the couch, appalled at his weakness. "I'm surprised Dayna even let you out of the medical unit like this, much less let you teleport down here."

"She didn't want to. I won her over with my logical arguments."

Vila snorted. "More like you sent her into a frenzy of annoyance so severe she told you to do whatever you wanted and the consequences be damned."

Avon's lips curled upward. "That too," he admitted smugly.

"Avon," Vila said, aware he was treading on thin ice but eager to capitalize on Avon's unusually companionable mood, "when we were down here before, when we were attacked—" Avon frowned and looked away. "—you didn't even try to take cover," Vila continued, oblivious to the warning signs. "Why? Why did you—"

"Enough!" Avon hissed, pushing himself into a sitting position with his good hand. "You will not interrogate me. Remember who you are, Vila. Remember who _I_ am."

All the color drained out of Vila's face in the wake of Avon's fury, but his own anger and hurt for once outweighed his fear. "Oh no, you don't have to worry about that, Mister High-and-Mighty Alpha. I remember well enough. I'm just a lowly Delta, ain't I? Not worthy for you to spit on. Well, let me just tell you something. I risked my hide, which, by the way, has a certain sentimental value to me even if not to you, to save your life, and whether you're glad of that or not, it gives me some rights. And one of those rights is to not be treated like a dog you think you can kick whenever you want and still expect it to be loyal to you. You may not know it, Avon, but even you need allies. Even you need friends." Out of breath, but his eyes still alight with righteous indignation, Vila's tirade wound to a halt.

Avon's dumfounded expression might have made Vila laugh if he hadn't been so furious with the other man. But, as Avon's silence continued, the lack of fuel to fire his wrath caused Vila to lose his emotional momentum. "Never mind," he muttered. "I'll wait for you by the main entrance." He turned to leave the computer center.

"Vila." Vila turned back. "Don't go." Vila bristled at what he took to be just another haughty command, but then Avon, his eyes fixed on empty space, added softly, "Please. I might... I _do_ need your help to finish up here."

"You do?" Vila suppressed the sudden grin that threatened to split his face in two. Instead, he said, "Well now, I don't know—"

"Don't push it," Avon warned, his gaze snapping up to meet Vila's.

Vila nodded, accepting the truce as more than Avon had ever offered him before. "What do you want me to do?" he asked eagerly.

"For a start, wake me up in half an hour. After that, we'll see."

"Half an hour. Right."

Avon lay down and closed his eyes. Soon his breathing took on the regular cadence of sleep.

 

At first Vila moved around the room, curiously examining its contents. He opened the few locked drawers and cabinets he came across, just for the fun of it, and found nothing of interest inside. Even as he sought to distract himself, however, his attention kept wandering back toward Avon. Finally he gave up and pulled a chair over by the couch so he had an unobstructed view of Avon's sleeping face. Vila recalled with wonder what he had said a few minutes ago. He didn't know where he had found the nerve to even suggest that he might be, was, Avon's friend. In fact, he admitted to himself for the first time, given half a chance he would have gladly offered Avon more than friendship. Much more.

But that was stupid even to think about. Despite the bitterness of his words, it was, after all, true that he was only a Delta to Avon's Alpha. The fact that they were both outlaws, both fugitives from the Federation, did little to equalize their status. And even if they had been born to the same social class Avon, by his very nature, would have remained as far above him as the stars were above the Earth.

Avon was right. They were what they were. Still, it hurt.

Vila was so distracted by his melancholy thoughts that he didn't notice Avon wake up, didn't notice the eyes watching him intently until Avon said, "You were supposed to wake me."

Vila jumped, a dozen excuses already poised on the tip of his tongue, but the intense expression on Avon's face disconcerted him, and he merely said, "Sorry. I was thinking." 

Avon's eyes bored into him. "What were you thinking about, Vila? _Who_ were you thinking about?"

Vila blushed and mentally kicked himself for the automatic reaction. "You feeling better, then?" he asked, desperate to change the subject.

Avon didn't answer at once, and when he did, it wasn't Vila's words he was responding to. "Don't," he said. "Don't."

"Don't what, Avon?" Vila asked, confused.

"Don't look at me like that," Avon answered, his gaze wavering then falling away. He pressed a trembling hand over his eyes. "I can't bear to see you look at me like that."

Vila stared at the other man, ashamed to be a witness to his pain yet unable to look away. It was as if he was seeing Avon for the first time, really seeing the man, not the cynical, cool mask he usually wore to such good advantage. Vila didn't know what to say, so in the end he opted for the truth. "I'm sorry," he whispered despairingly. "It's the way I feel. I can't help it." Tentatively, Vila reached out and barely brushed the back of Avon's right hand with the tips of his fingers, hoping it was still numb and that his boldness would go unnoticed.

When Avon didn't respond Vila sighed, half in relief and half in disappointment, and started to withdraw his hand, only to gasp in surprise and pain as Avon suddenly reached out and grasped it tightly. "Avon," he yelped, "you're hurting me!"

Avon's grip immediately loosened, but he didn't let go. Instead, he entwined his fingers with Vila's and sat staring at their clasped hands. After a long moment, he murmured, "It's been a long time, Vila. Maybe too long. All I know how to do is take. I've forgotten how to give."

"Take, then," Vila said hoarsely, "and I'll give."

Avon nodded. Slowly he stood up and drew Vila into his arms. For a long time they stood there, Vila's head resting against Avon's neck, then Avon bent toward him, bringing their mouths together in a chaste brushing of lips that soon deepened into much, much more. By the time Avon broke the kiss, they were both breathless.

"I'd… better… sit… down," Avon panted, a stunned expression on his face.

"What's the matter," Vila grinned, suddenly very sure of himself, "bite off more than you can chew?" His grin faded, however, as Avon swayed, almost losing his balance.

"Oh," he said worriedly, grabbing the other man's shoulders and guiding him back to the couch. "I should have known," he berated himself.

"Shut up, Vila," Avon said as he lay back against the cushions with a sigh, "and kiss me again."

Reassured, Vila instantly bent to comply.

 

"You're really quite good at that," Avon said some time later.

"Yes, I know," Vila said as he began to unfasten the numerous silver studs securing Avon's black tunic. "How'd you get into this with that arm of yours?" Vila complained a few moments later. "You're more difficult to get at than a virgin in a chastity belt." He wriggled his eyebrows lasciviously. "Lucky thing I can break into anything."

Vila's nimble fingers faltered as Avon laughed—a delighted, deep-throated laugh completely unlike any sound Vila had ever before heard from him. His concentration broken, Vila, too, broke into laughter.

Shoulders still shaking with mirth, Avon reached up to wipe away the moisture that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. "I haven't laughed like that since—" A shadow of the old pain flickered across his face then faded into an appraising smile. "You always have been able to make me laugh."

"Not so anyone could tell," Vila said.

"I could tell," Avon answered. "It's what first attracted me to you."

Embarrassed, Vila grumbled, "You talk too much. Hush up and let me get back to work, or we'll be here all day." He started in on Avon's tunic again.

"Would that be so bad?"

Vila just growled impatiently .

Avon made a gesture of amused surrender and caressed Vila's cheek with one finger. "All right. I'll shut up. Do with me as you will. I'm yours to command." The last was said in a low, seductive murmur that sent a chill down Vila's spine.

"About time, too," Vila said, his voice rough edged with emotion. It had never occurred to him that Avon could be a gentle, generous lover, and the revelation that it was so was almost more than he could bear.

For once, Vila truly wanted nothing for himself in this, their first encounter. He only wanted to please Avon, to show him what he couldn't tell him, what he had no words to express. Finally the last of the studs gave way to his efforts, and Avon's pale chest was laid bared to Vila's eyes and touch. At the sight of the large white dressing, Vila hesitated before pressing lightly against the spot the arrow had pierced.

Suddenly Avon's hand was there covering his own. "This is only for our pleasure, Vila. Because it's what we both want. I make no promises. Not for now. Not for the future. That has to be understood at the outset."

"Yes," Vila nodded, not because he agreed, but because it was what Avon wanted to hear. "No promises. Just for our pleasure."

It wasn't enough, but at least it was something. At least it was more than he had ever had before, more than the gaping nothing that Avon's death death would have left him with. Without further hesitation, Vila lowered his head to Avon's neck and began to kiss his way down the other man's body. Avon's right nipple was out of reach beneath the dressing, so he spent extra time on the other one, licking and nipping it erect. Avon's sharp intake of breath and subsequent moans of pleasure were the most beautiful sounds Vila had ever heard. Replacing his lips with his fingers, Vila gently kneaded the tiny nub with one hand while the other one trailed downward across Avon's lightly furred abdomen.

He paused briefly to look at Avon. Avon's eyes were closed, and his finely molded lips were parted slightly as he savored the exquisite sensations Vila's talented fingers were eliciting. The sight of Avon, untouchable, unreachable Avon so far lost in passionate oblivion because of him, because of his touch, was too much for Vila, and he froze, shuddering with arousal. Avon's eyes opened to glittering slits at the change in Vila's touch, and he reached out to trail an appreciative thumb over the straining bulge in Vila's pants.

"Avon!" Vila shouted. He grabbed blindly at Avon's hand and pressed it tightly against himself as he exploded. When his spasms finally began to abate, he slumped to his knees beside the couch and rested his head weakly against Avon's naked belly. "That wasn't supposed to happen," Vila gasped, rubbing his sweaty cheek against soft, warm skin.

"Nonsense," Avon purred, skimming his fingers lightly over Vila's sandy hair. "Of course it was supposed to happen. Not quite so precipitously, perhaps, but still."

"No. Not me. You." Vila's breath was finally returning to him, but he still felt dazed and a little ashamed of his loss of control.

"Oh, yes," Avon concurred. "Definitely me. But you, too. This isn't a contest, you know. There's no prize for the first one to cross the finish line. Except, of course, the obvious one," he amended with a vulpine grin as he gestured toward the ample wet spot staining Vila's tan pants.

Vila blushed. "Yeah. Better it had been you than me, though. Those shiny black pants of yours wouldn't show a thing. Still, I like to unwrap my presents before I play with them." True to his word, Vila had Avon completely undressed within moments. "You are a beauty, Avon," he murmured appreciatively as he caressed the other man's thigh.

"And here I thought you only wanted me for my extraordinary mind." Avon's teasing comment ended on a quick intake of breath as Vila's mouth descended on him, bringing him rapidly and satisfactorily over the edge.

 

"Nothing," Avon hissed disgustedly, slamming his fist down on the computer console. "They were nowhere near completing their research. Their last transmission was a pack of lies, no doubt intended to bring a rescue ship to their aid. What a waste of time."

"Oh, I don't know," Vila said from the couch where he lay naked, waiting for his recently washed pants to dry. "I wouldn't call all of it a waste."

Avon failed to suppress a smile. "No," he agreed, "perhaps not all of it." He gripped his right shoulder in his left hand and kneaded it, wincing slightly as he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

"Here," Vila said, jumping up from the couch, "let me do that." He moved up behind Avon's chair and began to massage both his shoulders firmly.

Avon sighed and leaned his head back against Vila's chest. "Your numerous talents never cease to amaze me," he murmured. He straightened, shrugging off the addictive hands. "But," he added in a considerably more business-like tone, "we should get out of here. The others will be wondering what happened to us."

"I bet they'd never guess," Vila snickered.

"No. Most likely not," Avon agreed. "Get dressed. Your clothes should be dry by now."

"Right. Good thing the laundry facilities are still functional down here. I wouldn't have liked to explain the condition my pants were in to Tarrant." His eyes unfocused slightly. "The mind boggles."

A few minutes later Vila was dressed, and the two men were approaching the main entrance. Vila reached for the door release, but Avon stopped him.

"Look," he said.

Vila looked where Avon was pointing and saw a monitor set in the wall to survey the terrain outside. "What?" he asked, searching the image on the screen.

"I thought I saw something move."

Vila looked nervously from the monitor to Avon and back again. "The primitives?" he asked.

"I don't know. Perhaps."

"But there's no other way out of here, and we can't teleport up from inside." Vila's voice was unsteady.

"I know. We'll just have to take our chances that I was mistaken and there's no one out there."

"We can't!" Vila cried. "You're in no condition to run, and besides, there's no cover!"

"Cally will be expecting to hear from us and should be able to teleport us up immediately we call. Even if there's a delay, we can duck back in here if we have to. Come on, Vila. We can't stay here forever."

"No, Avon, please, you can't go out there!"

"Vila—" Avon looked into Vila's fear-dilated eyes and hesitated. " _I_ can't go out there?" he asked. "You think I plan on walking into another arrow, don't you?"

"Well don't you? No promises, Avon, remember? No promises, you said," Vila reminded him, his voice rising precariously. "You did it once. Why not again?"

"Yes. Why not?" Avon asked distantly, his thoughts obviously turned inward. "Vila," he began again, "there isn't much in this universe I hold sacred, but there is still one thing. My word. I don't give it easily, but when I do, I keep it. I give you my word now. I will do nothing out there to deliberately endanger myself."

"I want to believe you, Avon, but I was there the last time. I saw your face. I saw what you did. You wanted to die then, I know you did, even if I don't know why. How am I supposed to believe that's changed?"

Avon shrugged. "I can't tell you it's changed. I'm not sure of that myself. But I'll my keep my word. At least believe that."

Vila just shook his head hopelessly.

"Never mind, then," Avon said. "This is how it stands. I'm going out that door, and you're either coming with me or not; it's entirely up to you. After that, whatever happens, happens." He approached Vila and pulled him into a brief, fierce embrace. "You have my word," he said again. "I won't break it."

Avon moved away, turned, and hit the door release. He stepped outside and immediately brought his wrist toward his lips to contact the ship. As he did so, Vila joined him, trembling and blinking owlishly in the bright daylight. "Emergency teleport!" Avon snapped into his communicator.

Just then three primitives broke from cover and aimed their bows. Vila froze for an instant in terror then twisted toward them, raising his gun. That's when Avon's compact body hit him broadside, knocking Vila down just as an arrow hummed past where his head had been a moment before. As Avon landed on top of him the teleport took them both to safety.

 

"Where the hell have you two been?" Tarrant asked as Cally and Dayna simultaneously asked, "Are you two all right?"

Meanwhile, Avon and Vila were picking themselves up off the teleport platform. This time around, Vila looked worse off than Avon did. "An uninvited welcoming committee met us when we left the station," Avon explained, leaning an arm against the bulkhead for support. "It was a good thing for us that you stayed on the alert. Another few seconds and you'd have teleported up a couple of corpses."

"Yes, well we were just about to send down a rescue team," Tarrant said irritably. "What took you so long? You should have been back hours ago."

Avon glanced at a cowed and thoroughly miserable looking Vila and shrugged. "I was weaker than I thought," he said. "I had to lie down for a while before I could finish searching the computer records."

"And?" Tarrant asked.

"We found nothing," Avon answered. "No scientists, no teleport, no improvements. Nothing."

"Oh well," Cally sighed. "At least the two of you got back safely this time. We were worried about you, weren't we, Dayna?"

"Yes," Dayna agreed. "Very worried. Come on, Avon. Let me take a look at that wound."

"It's fine."

"I'm sure it is, but it still needs to be checked, so why put it off? Unless you have something better to do right now?" she asked him innocently. Avon finally looked at her. "No," he said. "I've nothing better to do." He didn't even glance toward Vila as he followed her down the corridor to the medical unit.

Vila, eyes downcast, didn't watch him go. "I need a drink," he mumbled. "Or several. Badly." Without another word, he wandered off toward his quarters.

 

Vila lay naked in his bed contemplating the ceiling. He tried not to think, but the same thoughts kept circling around in his brain, making his head ache and his stomach churn. He hadn't trusted Avon, even after Avon had given him his word. He had all but called Avon a liar to his face. And why not? Nothing had changed since Avon's first, passive attempt at suicide. Whatever personal demons had goaded Avon into believing that life was no longer worth the effort it took must still hold rein over him, mustn't they? Their interlude down on the planet hadn't meant anything to Avon even if it had meant everything to Vila. Avon had as much as said so. _For our pleasure_ , he'd said, holding Vila at a figurative, if not a literal, arm's length. " _For love_ ," Vila's heart had answered silently, afraid that Avon would hear and withdraw from him if he knew the true depth of his feelings for him.

But Avon had kept his word. He had kept himself and Vila alive. Maybe… No. Hope was too dangerous an emotion to harbor. More dangerous even than love. Hope could destroy him.

Vila jumped as the intercom buzzed and Avon's voice said, "Let me in, Vila."

Vila held his breath, tempted not to answer. Avon must be angry at him, angry at his reluctance to trust him. Avon had been serious when he'd said his word was sacred to him. Vila had known that for a long time, but his fear for Avon's life had made it impossible for him to believe his assurances. Yes, no doubt Avon was angry at him.

"Let me in, Vila," Avon repeated.

Vila sighed. He had no choice but to comply. Might as well get it over with. "Come in, then," he said. The door slid open, but Avon didn't enter. "Avon?" Vila asked, pushing himself up on his elbows. "What is it? What do you want?"

Avon started at Vila's voice then stepped quickly over the threshold, the door automatically closing behind him. He looked nervous, not angry, Vila realized, curiosity overcoming his earlier trepidation. But why? "Sit down," he said, suddenly wanting very much to put the other man at ease.

"Thank you." Avon sat on the edge of the bed, staring intently at a spot over Vila's shoulder.

"Avon?" Vila prompted warily as his silence stretched out. When Avon finally looked at him, his eyes were unreadable, and Vila squirmed under their steady surveillance. "I'm sorry," he said at last, more to break Avon's disturbing concentration than for any other reason.

"Sorry? For what?" Avon asked.

"For not trusting you," Vila answered. "For not trusting your word."

Avon shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said and fell silent again.

"Avon, please," Vila said plaintively. "You're scaring me."

Avon sighed. "I don't mean to." He rubbed a hand across his face. "I'm so tired, Vila," he said quietly, his expressionless mask finally dropping away to reveal the lonely, uncertain man beneath. "Tired to death." 

Vila's chest tightened, and it took a conscious effort not to reach out and pull Avon into his arms. He was no longer afraid, but he could sense that Avon was, that Avon was terrified. The sudden role reversal shook him, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. If he made one wrong move, he knew instinctively that Avon would bolt, or even worse would retreat again, perhaps for good, behind his cynical, uncaring facade.

Moving slowly, as if Avon was a wild animal he was trying to gentle, Vila scooted over in the bed and raised the edge of the covers. "Lie down, then," he said, "and rest." He held his breath, waiting for Avon's decision.

Uncertainty flickered across Avon's face, then he nodded and rose to shrug out of his clothes. He lay down carefully, and Vila tossed the covers over both of them, draping an arm over Avon. When he didn't complain, Vila slowly drew nearer until they lay pressed against one another.

They stayed like that for a long time before Avon drew a deep breath and relaxed into Vila's warmth. He settled his dark head on Vila's shoulder and within moments fell asleep.

Vila lay motionless, not wanting to disturb Avon. He had difficulty swallowing past the lump in his throat, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. Avon had come to him. Avon had come to him! Not to talk. Not for sex. But for comfort. For companionship. Because he didn't want to be alone. Because Avon needed him.

Vila's heart felt so full he was afraid it would burst. For the first time in years, he was completely happy. He buried his face in Avon's soft hair and he, too, fell asleep.

 

Vila moaned, straining toward his elusive dream lover, his body on fire, his hips thrusting upward as he sought to bury himself deeper and deeper in the exquisite heat encasing his erection.

Suddenly awake, Vila looked down the length of his body to see Avon's head poised over his groin, Avon's mouth closed over his shaft, Avon's cheeks pumping in and out as he sucked him voraciously. The sight was too much for him, and Vila shouted Avon's name as he exploded, his seed spurting endlessly into Avon's mouth.

Avon swallowed it, all of it, and then withdrew, licking the last drop off the glistening head as he sat back on his haunches and gazed through heavy-lidded eyes into Vila's passion-glazed face.

Vila lay gasping, unable to speak, awed by what Avon had done, awed that Avon had given him such a wonderful, unanticipated gift. _And he said he doesn't know how to give_ , Vila thought. Tears welled up in his eyes and overflowed, running unchecked down his cheeks.

Avon's arms closed around him, holding him tightly, rocking him gently as he murmured in Vila's ear, "Hush, Vila. Hush. What is it? What's wrong? Tell me."

As Avon crooned reassuringly to him, Vila clung to the other man. His tears still flowing, he kissed Avon's shoulder, kissed across the side of his face and finally possessed his mouth, sucking Avon's tongue into his mouth, where the lingering taste of his release drove Vila wild.

He pulled back, begging hoarsely, "Take me, Avon. I want you inside me." He parted his legs so Avon lay between them and reached down to grasp Avon's engorged cock, pressing it's tip against his body, desperately trying to push it inside.

"Wait," Avon rasped, "we need a lubricant. I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't care. Please, Avon. Please."

Indecision warred with lust on Avon's face for just a moment before he capitulated. Spitting saliva into one hand, he rubbed it over his cock. Then, putting two fingers into his mouth, he moistened them and pressed first one, then both into Vila.

"Yes!" Vila hissed as Avon prepared him. "Now, Avon. I'm ready now." He strained upward, lifting his legs over Avon's shoulders.

Avon pressed forward slowly as the ring of muscle around Vila's entrance give way to him. Chest heaving, he paused to give Vila a chance to adjust, but Vila refused to wait. Leaning forward, he grasped Avon around the hips and pulled him forward, encasing him completely.

Both men cried out as they started to move together. Avon withdrew and thrust at an ever increasing pace, and Vila kept time with him, rocking up and down with the rhythm Avon set until, unable to hold out any longer, he came with a strangled shout. The convulsive clenching of his internal muscles dragged Avon over the edge with him.

Sated, Avon fell beside Vila and pulled him into a tight embrace. Vila settled beside him, rubbing his sweat sheened face against the throbbing artery in Avon's neck.

"I love you," Vila whispered. "I love you. I love you." 

Avon tensed, and his arms fell away from Vila, leaving him feeling cold and alone. Confusion gave way instantly to realization, and Vila cried out, "No! No Avon, I didn't mean it! What have I done?"

Vila started to roll away, but Avon's arms closed around him again, holding him close until his panic subsided. "I'm sorry," Vila whispered. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to say that. I'll never say it again. I promise." He held his breath, waiting for Avon to pass judgment on him, on both of them.

For a moment Avon didn't reply, then he said raggedly, "No promises, Vila, remember? There are to be no promises between us. Now, go to sleep."

Vila let out the breath he had been holding. "Yes, Avon," he agreed meekly, his voice full of relief. He settled into the comfort of his lover's embrace and smiled.


End file.
